[Anthology] Abby & Sei Thriller Starter

by Ty Hutchinson

  “Go back into my camera roll. There’s another video.”

  I swiped the screen and pulled up the second video. It showed a young man with a guitar exiting the bus. I looked up at Tucker. “The medical examiner said the heart belonged to a young male.”

  “Both individuals exited the bus at Larkin and Sutter,” he added. “It’s a residential area in the lower Nob Hill neighborhood. My guess is either she followed him, to his place or she lives in the area.”

  I agreed with Tucker. “Great work, Agent. Email Detective Kang and me those videos, and get ready to head out with me.” Earlier, Reilly had mentioned that if I had the chance to take Tucker out into the field, I should do it. He needed to get his feet wet. I questioned whether it was too early, but Reilly said he didn’t want to coddle the kid.

  “Okay,” Tucker said with a large smile.

  After he left, I called Kang and updated him on Tucker’s find. “The sooner we can organize a knock-and-talk, the better chance we might have at finding someone who saw something.”

  He agreed, and we made a plan to meet at the location in forty-five minutes.

  “Bring a couple of extra bodies,” I told him. “I have a feeling about this one.”

  The Carlsons had just completed another marathon sex session to celebrate the completion of the heart Attraction. Because they were in a new place, they had done the deed in all the rooms and finished in the bedroom, where they both lay breathless and sweaty. Jerry had quickly faded into a deep sleep—not unusual—but Vicki remained alert and energized. She hopped out of bed right as Jerry began to snore.

  In the kitchen, she opened the fridge and poured herself a glass of orange juice before taking a seat on the balcony, still nude. The crisp air gave her goose bumps, but it felt so refreshing that she didn’t mind. She stared at the sparkly reflections that covered the bay and fell into an aimless gaze until an uptick in the breeze awakened her.

  She took another sip of the juice and was reminded of the charm that had fallen off her bracelet. She had noticed it missing when she gave Jerry head earlier. She had eight altogether. The missing Eiffel Tower charm was the one she adored the most though, because that’s where Jerry had proposed to her. But mostly, they were reminders of where they had killed together.

  She knew she’d still had the jeweled piece when they were watching the musician in Union Square, even when she stood in the alleyway waiting, because she had been playing with it. After they dispatched him, they came straight back to the hotel, packed and moved to the cottage, where shortly after, they had begun their sex-a-thon. Did I lose it at the apartment?

  She thought about telling Jerry but decided against it. He would only tell her she should be more careful. Plus, at the time, he had begun to do her doggie style, and she temporarily forgot about it. Even though it had only cost a few Euros, to her, it was priceless, and she had to have it back.

  Vicki thought briefly about returning to the apartment and the dangers that would entail. The other likely place she thought she might have lost it was in the alley outside the musician’s building. While waiting, she had placed both of her hands behind her butt and leaned against them instead of the building’s exterior. It could have caught on something and, in the process, have been pulled off the bracelet. But being in the vicinity was a bad idea. Jerry would never let her go back there if he knew that’s what she was thinking. She realized then it was a plus she hadn’t mentioned it.

  Vicki made her way to the master bedroom. She could hear Jerry snoring before she even entered the room. He lay on his stomach with a pillow stuffed under his chest and head, his bare ass looking back at her. She poked her husband in his arm. “Jerry.” She did that twice more, but still, he didn’t stir. She figured she could cab it over to the location and take a peek in the area where she had stood, and if she didn’t find it, she would come back to the cottage right away. Jerry would never have to know.

  Vicki dressed in jeans and a black sweater so as to blend with all the other people who wore black in the city. She’d had no plans of wearing the wig, since she had worn it that night, but seeing how it looked with her outfit changed her mind. She grabbed her oversized sunglasses to differentiate her look and then called for a cab.

  Tucker and I met Kang and his crew of officers at the corner of Larkin and Sutter. We weren’t sure what we were looking for. Her apartment? His apartment? A body? Who knew, but we had to start somewhere.

  Given that we had no idea how far they might have walked, there was a great deal of ground to cover. Our plan was to start with the buildings near the stop. Kang’s men split up and tackled Sutter. Kang, Tucker, another officer and I took on Larkin, they on one side of the street, Tucker and I on the other.

  The Sutter team was already handling the building on the corner, so Tucker and I walked north to the next one, past a small side street. We got lucky with a resident exiting and were able to slip inside the lobby area.

  We counted sixteen mailboxes in the five-story building. The first floor was a lobby, no apartments.

  “Four per floor. Should be easy,” Tucker said.

  “Take the second and third. I’ll handle the fourth and fifth. Remember, if you stumble upon anything suspicious, you call me before you do anything? Got it?”

  He nodded. “And if I find the body?”

  “Don’t touch it. Don’t puke.”

  Tucker hoofed it up the stairs while I waited for the elevator. Did he live here? Did she ride up with him? Did she strike up conversation to relax him, to have him lower his guard? Was she flirting, making it easier?

  The elevator doors opened onto a dimly lit hallway. The light directly outside the elevator had burned out, and the rest looked like they were all low wattage. Talk about cheap management. I breathed in deeply. The air was slightly chilly with a touch of mustiness. My nose didn’t catch a whiff of death, but my other senses tingled as if it should have.

  40

  Vicki had the cab driver drop her off one block north from the location of the bus stop. She had decided she was better off approaching the building from the opposite direction and on her terms. No surprises. She thought about paying the driver to wait but decided against it. No need for a witness should something go wrong. She tossed the cabbie a twenty and exited the vehicle.

  For a minute or so, Vicki stood at the corner and watched the building. Street traffic was sparse, and there didn’t seem to be any people walking the block. Might as well get on with it. Vicki adjusted her purse on her shoulder before crossing the street. Her right hand dipped inside the bag and fondled her blade, ready for any confrontation she might encounter.

  She walked confidently at a pace she thought would mimic a person who lived in the neighborhood. A few steps past the building, she stepped into the alley. Where are you, little one? She scanned the area methodically, not wanting to overlook the small charm. It could have slipped into a crack or been covered by a piece of rubbish. Rather than kick the debris around, she picked up each item, eliminating any doubt as to whether she had checked under each one. It didn’t take long for her hopes to diminish as the area she searched widened. Vicki let out a deep breath, resolving to what she knew she had to do: return to the apartment.

  I hadn’t had any luck with the first three apartments—two were empty, and the occupant in the third had a very poor command of the English language. So there I stood, facing the last apartment at the end of the hall, expecting to have a similar experience. I was pleasantly surprised when the door opened and revealed a cheerful, old lady who was exactly my height.

  “Hello. May I help you?” she asked with a pleasant smile. She had light blue eyes that popped against her snow-white bob, which was neatly tucked behind each ear. She wore a pink blouse with a pearl necklace draped over it and a checkered skirt that fell slightly past her knees. I could tell she was of the generation that believed in dressing for the day, even when she had no plans to leave her apartment.

  I smiled back at her. “H
ello. My name is Abby Kane. I’m with the FBI. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  Concern drew her lips together. “Yes, of course. Please, come inside.”

  She stepped back, opening the door wider. Before I could ask my first question, she told me to take a seat on the couch, said she would be back with some tea and then scurried off to the kitchen.

  I hadn’t expected to have a long conversation; all I wanted was an opportunity to show her a few pictures. With her enthusiasm for entertaining an FBI agent, I got the impression she didn’t receive many visitors. Besides, it wouldn’t kill me to make the time, and she had said the magic word: tea.

  I sat there quietly, taking in her décor. That woman loved horses. They were everywhere in the form of paintings, sculptures and stuffed animals. Even the throw blanket she had on her couch featured a scene of horses running through an open field.

  “Let me guess; you like horses?” I said as he reappeared with a tray.

  She laughed as she put it down on the coffee table. “I rode for many years as a young woman. I had my own horse, Betsy. She was a Dutch Warmblood who had the most beautiful, black coat you have ever seen. It shined under the sun like a freshly polished shoe.” She walked over to a built-in bookshelf and removed a picture frame and a small box. “This is me at the Summer Olympics in Helsinki. I won a silver medal, thanks to Betsy.”

  I did a double take at the frail woman who now stood before me. “That’s you?”

  “Yes,” she said with a chuckle. “Most people find it hard to believe that I’m an Olympian.”

  She then opened the small box she held in her other hand. I drew in a sharp breath. “That’s beautiful. I’ve never seen an Olympic medal firsthand. Incredible.”

  Her proud smile lit up the room.

  I wanted nothing more than to pepper her with more questions about her life, but duty called. “Thank you for sharing.” I removed my phone and pulled up the picture of my mystery woman. “Have you seen this woman?”

  She squinted and leaned forward before shaking her head. “She doesn’t look familiar, though I might have seen her and can’t remember.” She poured me a cup of tea. I noticed the familiar hue, and I got excited. I had expected black tea, maybe Earl Grey. I reached for the cup and before it reached my lips, I inhaled and couldn’t believe my nose. This can’t be. I took a sip. It is! “This isn’t Tieguanyin, is it?”

  “Why, yes, it is. I happen to have a certain fondness for it.”

  “Oh my God. So do I. It’s the only tea I drink. In fact, I carry a tin around with me.” I dug around in my purse and pulled it out so she could see it. “People think I’m nuts to carry tea around.”

  She waved off my assessment. “I used to do the same thing. It’s not a tea that people commonly keep on hand.”

  “Tell me about it. I tell everybody I drink green tea, because if I mention that its oolong tea, they always ask what the difference is, and I got tired of explaining.”

  “A lot of people drink green tea, but oolong—now that’s a tea worth carrying around.”

  I was completely and utterly in love with this woman. We talked about our addiction for a few more minutes before I steered the conversation back to the case. I pulled up the video footage that Tucker had sent me. “I have some video of her. Does this help?”

  She watched the video twice before shaking her head once more. “I’m sorry, but I just don’t recall seeing this woman around. She doesn’t look familiar at all. I’m very sorry.”

  So was I. As much as I wanted to stick around and continue chatting with her, I had a killer to stop.

  41

  Jerry muttered under his breath as he stared out the window of the moving cab. He was furious, a fact that his beet-red face made very apparent. He chewed on a thumbnail that barely existed; it was the only way he could keep himself from exploding. He thought more than once about killing the cab driver to ease his nerves but had the resolve to hold back, something he couldn’t have done years ago, before Vicki’s calming influence.

  Over the years, she had taught him self-restraint—said it would lead to a more prosperous life of killing. She was right, but he hated it. He hated denying himself the pleasure of killing on a whim. But what complicated matters for Jerry was his slew of anxieties, most of them compulsive.

  Once Jerry bought into something, he had to see it through. It’s the only reason he could kill so pragmatically. Never in a million years had he thought he would take orders on how to kill a person and then deliver. That would have been too much trouble.

  Jerry preferred organic kills, those that happened naturally with no disruption. He had once explained to Vicki that he likened this new method of killing to having sex with a condom. “When I’m in the moment and everything feels right and the next move should be to slip inside but I have to stop, get the condom, rip it open, slip it on… It ruins the natural rhythm of things.”

  Jerry’s impatience with his wife’s insubordination had come to a head. She had pushed every one of his buttons with this last outing. How stupid does she think I am? He knew where she had run off to. He had noticed that her charm had gone missing. That stupid thing. It’s not even real gold.

  Jerry wrestled with the idea of how to keep his wife under control. She was jeopardizing their gameplay. How could he expect to continue with her exhibiting that sort of behavior? I told her not to go there. I had forbidden it. At least, he thought he had. He was sure he did. It didn’t matter. The question he now proposed to himself was whether he should kill her. It would eliminate the problem, and he felt confident enough that he could go on without her. But there was a hiccup: he loved her.

  Vicki didn’t need to wait very long for someone to exit the building and allow her to slip inside. She pulled on the heavy, glass door of the rickety elevator and entered. The small space reeked of mechanical oil used to keep the gears of the old lift lubed and functioning. She hit the fifth floor button and proceeded to take the slow ride up. There was no bell or lighted number to announce her arrival, only the grating of metal when she slid open the manual doors.

  Down the carpeted hall she walked, mindful of not dragging her feet or letting the heels of her cross-trainers drum the floor. No need to notify any of the residents that someone is outside. With each step closer, Vicki became increasingly aware of a tightening in her stomach. It wasn’t something she had experienced very often. She didn’t flinch when gutting a man, nor did it bother her to stare into someone’s eyes as their lifeblood spurted from a wound on their neck. Excitement would be the word to best explain those feelings. This was different. She had never before returned to a location while the body was still there. It wasn’t something that interested her, nor had she ever had any reason to.

  She also noticed that her throat had dried when she swallowed, causing her to cough twice into her closed mouth. Strange, she thought. When she reached the musician’s door, only then did it dawn on her that the door was probably locked. Jerry had been the last one out; surely he had locked it. All this sneaking around and risk could be for naught. Vicki shook off those thoughts and reached for the doorknob, wondering and hoping. With a quick twist of her wrist, the door clicked open. Her husband had fucked up.

  She entered the apartment and locked the door behind her. On the floor, surrounded by an oval of soiled carpeting, lay the musician. His eyes were still open, but dry, and staring absently at the wall. Most of the blood coating his skin and clothing had dried to a crust, except around the gash in his neck; there, it looked to still have a gel-like consistency. The strong smell of iron lingered in the apartment but was nonexistent in the hallway. It surprised her that it wasn’t worse, all things considered.

  She moved closer to his body, careful not to step on the carpet that had absorbed fluids. Plush carpeting serves a purpose. His face was devoid of color, and his mouth lay partly open, allowing her to see his dark, bloated tongue. She noticed a slight belly had formed from the gases slowly building inside of him—
a big fart waiting to explode.

  Vicki carefully searched the area around his body and slowly branched out in a circle. She found nothing and started to wonder if the charm might be under him. That would be a bummer. She didn’t want to get her hands dirty. Maybe he has a broom or something I can roll him over with. What a drag.

  The fourth floor was a bust, but the company and the tea had made up for it. After thanking Virginia Ayton for her time—I had noticed her name on the picture she had shown me—I handed her my card and told her to call me if she should remember anything. Secretly, I hoped she would. I so wanted to learn more about her interesting life. Would it be weird to ask her to meet for coffee after questioning her?

  I headed for the stairs with that thought lingering and wondered if Tucker had beat me to the fifth floor. I counted sixteen steps with badly worn carpeting before reaching the top of the stairwell. There were no surprises, just another dreary hallway staring back at me. There was a difference, though: I could detect a hint of carpet freshener. Someone cares on this floor.

  Before I knocked on the first door, my phone beeped. It was a text from Kang asking for an update. I replied that Tucker and I were still in the first building and that I hadn’t had any luck. I told him I wasn’t sure about Agent Tucker. He responded with similar results on his end. So far, things weren’t looking so good. And it didn’t get any better, as I encountered a moment of silence after knocking on the first door.

  Door by door, I made my way down the ghost hall. No one seemed to be home, and not a peep could be heard. I knocked on the second-to-last door and thought I heard a noise. I had: my stomach telling me to feed it. I let out a soft breath. My earlier hopes of moving forward in the case were slowly fading. That’s the thing with police work; the highs were high, and the lows were low. A lot of exploring was needed to produce any sort of meaningful result.